


Duality

by xwynn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BoKuroo Week 2017, M/M, ch 1 is safe and prose-y, rated Mature for intense makeout in ch 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwynn/pseuds/xwynn
Summary: Day 3: Kuroo would like to say he isn't lovesick but everything looks a little different now and its all because of him. Bokuto can't stop seeing the moon and stars and he couldn't be happier.Day 5: Kuroo's got Bokuto trapped in a cliche infested corner and neither of them are gonna make it out alive if he doesn't fucking stop it.Written for Bokuroo Week 2017.





	1. In Other Words (Moon and Stars)

**Author's Note:**

> I only wrote for two days of bokuroo week cause thats all I had the time for, I would have liked to write for more but things didn't work out that way but im not mad. 
> 
> The title is Duality because the story for Moon and Stars is a complete opposite of the story for Neon Lights and I honestly could not think of a better title.

Kuroo would like to say that he is not lovesick.

He would like to say that he is not, but he sees Bokuto everywhere, in _everything_ , and finds that it is much more difficult to say such things without it sounding like something of a lie.

Because he sees him in the streams and he sees him in the lakes - whether flowing or standing still, they are refreshing. Refreshing to hear, to see, and if he’s tempted to do so; refreshing to feel - the water flowing through his fingers, the same way it carves out canyons and smooths rocks into pebbles. Always careful, always thoughtful, omnipresent and aware.

Because he sees him in the trees too, not in the treetops that sway gently with the breeze, but in the trunks. Rugged and rough, with chip marks in their surface or gaping wide holes in their form. Tree trunks, that even in the dead of winter with no leaves to shield it from the harsh cold winds, has no inclination to wither, to fall off and die down. Stubborn in that regard maybe, unattractive and off putting in others. But Kuroo could make a home in the hollows of those trees, could build a life there knowing that they’ll never fall down if it so much as allowed him to.

Because he sees him in the sun - or rather - he sees the sun in him. It is there in his smile, where it is always warm, always radiant. It is there in his hands, like morning rays on flower petals and grass, leaving it something better than it was before. And it is there in his eyes, obvious in its color, gold, because the gods who made him were not satisfied with yellow. That yellow was not fitting of someone who was to be blessed with the rays of the sun but gold; something that shines even in the dark, something so beautiful, so enticing that people have spent years trying to find it.

(Kuroo is just lucky that it found him instead.)

Kuroo would like to say that he is not lovesick, but a thought hits him this time, as he sits in his class, pen scribbling out lecture notes. Not like a train, nor like a bullet, but rather gentle in its formation, like a caressing hand on his skin. Diligent but attentive in its travels til it reaches its destination, reminiscent of hands he’s felt before, hands he craves time and time again.

Kuroo would like to say that he is not lovesick, that he no longer gets butterflies in his stomach when Bokuto looks at him, no longer blushes from his compliments or his adoring antics, that he’s moved past that - that honeymoon phase where everything is rainbows and sunshine - but Kuroo can’t get Bokuto out of his head. Can’t stop seeing the rainbows or feeling the sunshine and all the other little things in this world that reminds Kuroo of him. Because Bokuto is happiness, happiness in things that he used to give no prior thought to - like the rivers, and the streams, and the tree trunks lining the street - he is happiness and he writes it down in his notebook and circles it twice. 

* * *

 

Kuroo often says that he is nothing special. That he is just another bump on the log, not uncommon or rare, just one in 7.5 billion.

And Bokuto often tells him that he is wrong, that that couldn’t be any further from the truth because there are 7.5 billion people in this world and there’s only one named Kuroo Tetsurou. 7.5 billion people in this world and there is only one Kuroo, only one with his bad bedhead and his sly grin, only one with his bones and his muscles, lanky but strong, only one with his hands and his eyes.  

There are 7.5 billion people in this world, but there is only one Kuroo Tetsurou and that is the one that he loves.

Kuroo often says that there is nothing special about him, that he is just a regular guy out of billions of regular guys but Bokuto does not believe that could ever be true. Just as there are stars in the sky, infinite and immeasurable; Bokuto doesn’t think, but rather knows, that somehow in the grand cosmic scheme of things, that a bit of every star has taken residence in Kuroo. That each star is why Kuroo is as beautiful as he is, each portion of cosmic makeup that flows in his blood, along in his veins, where it is natural, where it is home; is why he shines so brightly. Why Bokuto has been able to find him, over and over again in the course of their lives, never one to stray from his light, always making his way towards it even when he wasn’t quite sure why.

Kuroo often says that he is nothing special. That he is just a weed in a garden full of flowers. But Bokuto tells him that that is a lie if he ever heard one because Kuroo is his moon, even when Kuroo himself thinks he’s rather the backdrop of the night. People can tell him that the moon is nothing special, that every planet has one, sometimes even several of them, but Bokuto always replies that there is only one moon he sees every night and that is the one he adores the most. Only one moon that he knows like the back of his hand, each dip, every crater, every ridge and valley more familiar to him than he sometimes knows how to handle.

Kuroo often says that there is nothing special about him, but Bokuto comes home one day, grocery bags in hands and there is singing. There is Kuroo’s singing, lively and pleasant, and it makes Bokuto smile, not because he has a wonderful singing voice. But this is Kuroo, in their home, singing loudly - something he only does when he is most comfortable, where he is most comfortable.

He is singing along to some song in english, crooning along to the man’s voice filtering out of the stereo as best as he can; and Bokuto thinks Kuroo sounds better than that singer if only because he’s just a little bit biased.

Bokuto tries to understand the song as much as possible, he’s not fluent in english by far but he tries his best. Picks up some line about ‘flying to the moon’ and ‘playing among the stars’ and Bokuto decides that he likes this song. That he couldn’t agree more to the sentiment if he tried.

He pads into the kitchen, sets the bags on the table on the way in, and there is Kuroo, hovering over a pot on the stove and singing.

Bokuto is sure he’s already heard him come in, but he tries to go for a surprise anyway. He grabs his wrist, pulls it over Kuroo’s head with a jerky movement, spins him a full 360 degrees, and then with flourish and grandeur, he dips him.

They’re laughing too loud to hear the music anymore but that’s okay with Bokuto because Kuroo’s laugh has always been his favorite sound anyway.

“Hello,” Kuroo smiles up at him.

“Hiya,” he replies simply.

They don’t say anything, maybe too caught up in the whirlwind of each other, maybe not. But Bokuto kisses him then, thinks it’s a good time, a good way, to greet his favorite person. It’s chaste, nothing to write about, but he can feel Kuroo smiling against him and that - that is something he could write a poem about. Maybe even two if he really tried.

Bokuto eases him out of the dip when they break apart. Kuroo goes back to cooking. Bokuto puts away the groceries. The music has gone onto another song. But he catches Kuroo’s eye, once when he’s putting the eggs in the fridge, again when he’s stacking cans in the cupboard, and that too is nothing to write about it.

But he smiles anyway, every time, because even though Kuroo says there is nothing special about him, just another bump on the log, one out of 7.5 billion, Bokuto doesn’t think he’s ever met someone so exceptional.


	2. You Got It (Neon Lights)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all this is an intense and heated makeout which is why this is rated M just to be on the safe side

The thing is that Bokuto actually doesn’t want to look like some straight-out-of-a-movie asshole.

He doesn’t want the cliches, or the cheesy one liners, or the beautiful scenic routes and all that other mushy shit. But Kuroo, _damn him_ , is fucking hellbent on making Bokuto do the exact thing he’s been avoiding his whole life.  

They’ve been tripping over each other all night.

Kuroo grabs his ass there. Bokuto grinds on him here. Kuroo sucks on his neck there and Bokuto is whispering naughty little things in his ear here.

It’s been like that all night. Back and forth. Push and pull. Til they got enough sense, enough of teasing of each other, to finally make their way out of that damn club.

“I’m not making out with you in an alley man.” Kuroo’s been pushing him into every flat surface that comes their way. (Admittedly, Bokuto’s been letting himself be pushed into every flat surface, but that’s not important.)

Kuroo is nosing his collarbone, pressing fluttery little kisses there like his life depended on it. (Who would’ve guessed he’d end up being a touchy drunk?) “C’mon, c’mon Kou, don’t you wanna?”

The thing is that Bokuto _really_ does not want to look like a cliche asshole, doesn’t want to look like a pair of horny teenagers who can’t keep their hands off each other for one second (but then again he’s never done anything remotely like this as a teenager, lord knows he was too scared to) but god - _god_ Kuroo’s voice is already so rough, his hands running up and down and _up and down_ his sides.

The alley they’ve managed to find themselves in isn’t too bad (thank god) there’s a dumpster at the end but it doesn’t smell. There’s a little shop at the entrance of it. The sign above it glows with bright neon, reading ‘Toys N’ Things’ with a goddamn winky face right under the lettering. Bokuto wants to roll his eyes just from the fucking situational irony of it all.

But damn him. _D_ _amn him, damn him, damn him_ ; cause Kuroo looks way too good bathed in those neon lights. Its unfair, fucking illegal, how someone can look so goddamn enticing saturated in fluorescent pinks and yellows and blues. 

“You are so unfair,” Bokuto tells him. Just so he’s aware.

Kuroo is in his face now, looking right at him, but he won’t kiss him. His way of saying that he won’t take this any further if Bokuto doesn’t want to. “Yeah?” he asks. Its a little smug but Bokuto decides not to acknowledge it.

He can see the blue neon reflecting in Kuroo’s eyes, and that too is unfair, but if Bokuto wants this he’s gotta work for it. Gotta show him that he wants him just as bad. (He was awarded hardest worker in high school three years straight and he’s not about to let that title go to waste now.)

So he kisses him, and boy, does he kiss him hard. No room left for misinterpretation, lets Kuroo know that he isn’t the only one with needy hands and a brain full of things he’d like to do. 

It takes less than a second for Kuroo to react. He didn’t think it was possible but Kuroo is pressing into him even more, like he’s trying to fuse them together, or flatten him against the brick or whatever the hell is going through Kuroo’s mind. (Though if Bokuto had to take a guess, he would say its himself and he feels kinda proud about that.)

His lips are soft and Kuroo tastes like whatever fruity vodka he had back at the club but its okay. Cause he’s got his tongue in Bokuto’s mouth, poking here, prodding there and _god is it okay_. The hands on Bokuto’s hips grip a little tighter when he lets loose a moan into Kuroo’s mouth and he feels a little triumph at that. Like he’s evening the playing field a little.

Bokuto kinda forgets that air is a thing, that he, well… _needs_. Not that he wants it, no, cause what he wants is for Kuroo to keep kissing him like Bokuto himself is air. But _noooo_ he’s pulling back, panting hard for that stupid fucking substance thats doing him a hell of a lot more inconveniencing than it exists for.

Kuroo is smiling at him, lopsided and crooked, and Bokuto doesn’t know how considering that he was just thinking about taking this makeout session back home but Kuroo looks absolutely adorable.

And then he pinches his ass and the moment is ruined.

“What?” Bokuto is cutting his eyes at him and he knows damn well ‘ _what’_.

“You truly are the worst, you know that?” He flicks his forehead, just because he can. Just to let him know what kind of effects he has on him.

Kuroo lets out a breathy little laugh. And its cute. But its also hot. Things are weird like that.

So Bokuto kisses him. Again. Cause the pink neon light was staining his lips and he wants to see if it’ll go away if he tries hard enough. Maybe it’ll scurry away or something, no longer wanting to be between two grown ass men who’s never heard of excessive PDA. Cause theres some yellow light tinting his jaw, melting down onto his neck and Bokuto is curious about that too.

He’s already got a hickey blooming on Kuroo’s neck when he laughs, deep and throaty, and he feels the vibration from it on his lips and that? Is one hell of a feeling, one hell of a something good and he almost wants to ask him to do it again.

“And you’re calling me the worst?” He says and yeah, he is actually. So he bites into the dip of collarbone and _sucks._ Kuroo’s hands fly up and they’re tugging at Bokuto’s hair and Kuroo doesn’t even bother trying to hide it, just lets out a guttural moan into the night air and _god_ is it hot. 

It’s hot, and he’s fucking overheating. It’s sexy and it’s hot and Kuroo isn’t even letting Bokuto lick up his neck anymore cause he’s pressing him closer til he’s absolutely sure there’s no more empty space between them, tugging at his hair, licking into _his_ mouth. Lips moving together fervently and it’s so loud, so messy, so goddamn _good._

And Bokuto can’t help it. He’s trembling under Kuroo, practically whining into his mouth and god help him he can’t help it - but he’s rolling his hips forward with intent and the moan Kuroo releases is delicious.

Kuroo is gasping into him, pulling away, and _woah, wait - what?_

“Home.” And its sounds so fucking desperate coming out between Kuroo’s lips, Bokuto can’t help but to chase it. Not quite ready to give this up. “Home.” So he pecks him on the lips. “Home.” And then again. “Home, home, _home._ ” And then again, and again, and again.

Kuroo is pulling away but he keeps giving into those little kisses, can’t deny them but Bokuto knows that if he allows himself more than that they’ll never get out of that alley. So he’s untangling himself, pulling on Bokuto’s hand, leading them home, and it’s kinda funny how Bokuto is the one chasing him now, attempting to press _Kuroo_ into every little surface.

And Bokuto really doesn’t want to look like some straight-out-of-a-movie asshole, but they’ve been tripping over each other all night and Kuroo looks really good under all those neon lights so well…fuck it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love bokuroo. thanks for reading.


End file.
